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the genus, the species, that has a universal reference? Or is
this not true, is there no such thing as pure accident? Has
EVERYTHING that happens a universal significance? Has
it? Birkin, pondering as he stood there, had forgotten Mrs
Crich, as she had forgotten him.
He did not believe that there was any such thing as acci-
dent. It all hung together, in the deepest sense.
Just as he had decided this, one of the Crich daughters
came up, saying:
‘Won’t you come and take your hat off, mother dear? We
shall be sitting down to eat in a minute, and it’s a formal
occasion, darling, isn’t it?’ She drew her arm through her
mother’s, and they went away. Birkin immediately went to
talk to the nearest man.
The gong sounded for the luncheon. The men looked up,
but no move was made to the dining-room. The women of
the house seemed not to feel that the sound had meaning
for them. Five minutes passed by. The elderly manser-
vant, Crowther, appeared in the doorway exasperatedly.
He looked with appeal at Gerald. The latter took up a large,
curved conch shell, that lay on a shelf, and without refer-
ence to anybody, blew a shattering blast. It was a strange
rousing noise, that made the heart beat. The summons was
almost magical. Everybody came running, as if at a signal.
And then the crowd in one impulse moved to the dining-
room.
Gerald waited a moment, for his sister to play hostess. He
knew his mother would pay no attention to her duties. But
his sister merely crowded to her seat. Therefore the young

32 Women in Love